


PoV Fest, AO3-Style

by tanarill



Category: Original Work, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Assumptions, Blankets, Cooking, Duelling, Female Friendship, Freedom, Gen, Healing, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Meditation, Negotiations, Order 66, POV Multiple, Politics, Repaying Debt, Reveal, Sith, Slavery, Sparring, Teacher-Student Relationship, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanarill/pseuds/tanarill
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker & Asajj Ventress, Anakin Skywalker & Mace Windu, Anakin Skywalker & Yoda, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Megatron♣️Spike Witwicky♣️Optimus Prime, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & Asajj Ventress, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 76
Kudos: 123





	1. Prompts

Does anyone remember PoV fiction? I do, and this week I'm trying something new. So, for those of you who follow me, you may write one (1) comment with a scene I have written and a non-PoV character who was in that scene, and I will rewrite that scene from that character's PoV. Depending on the number and my muses, I may or may not fill them all; but it does not hurt to ask. Tags on this fic will be updated as appropriate.

Okay, I think that's all. Interactive fic GO!


	2. Ahsoka on Mortis

Ahsoka sat outside the little shuttle she'd just finished repairing. Mostly repairing. Hopefully. It would probably fly, anyway. She was half-meditating, trying to get a sense of where the parts that were still not fixed were, and if they'd mess them up too badly before they managed to get back to the _Negotiator_. It was late evening, almost fully night, so the Force had shifted back over to the dark, and she wasn't having much luck. She was debating meditating, but there didn't tend to be downtime on missions, and she might need to be sharp when her masters got back.

Something had happened, she knew. Something her Master Anakin and her grandmaster Obi-wan weren't telling her. Something that she _ought_ to remember, instead of a block of chaos and belonging that felt _too_ right.

Still, she was at least paying attention to the Force, which was why she noticed the slight shift in the Dark, a presence that had enough of the Light to be noticeable against a Dark background. She was up and moving, in stance and lightsabers out, before the strange being that called itself the Father approached out of the fog.

"Oh," said Ahsoka, and turned off the 'saber. "It's you."

"Mm," said the Father. "Where is your - Anakin?"

Ahsoka didn't really know, but she could have pointed in the general direction, if she'd wanted to. Instead, she shrugged. "Around."

"My son is dead," said the Father. "And my daughter." He gave her an appraising look. Ahsoka resisted the urge to shudder. "My duty is almost ended."

"Great," said Ahsoka. "So that means we'll be able to leave?"

The Father didn't answer, turning to look out into the swampy landscape. In exactly the direction Master Anakin and Master Obi-wan were in. Ahsoka decided she was happy she hadn't told him.

It was only a little while later, maybe half an hour, before the two of them sped out of the dark. Before she could welcome them, the Father said, "No. He didn't."

"He did, I'm afraid," said Master Anakin. "I don't think it's reversible. Although mechanistically, even if it were, I doubt it would . . . un-bud us, or whatever it was that just happened."

"No; you're right, it wouldn't," said the Father, and demanded, "What are you going to do, now?"

"Do? The same thing I've always done: protect." Master Anakin paused, then added, "This time without killing."

"You must balance the Force," intoned the Father.

"Why?" he asked; demanded, really. "Give me one good, logical reason why I shouldn't just let that knowledge die with me."

Master Anakin clearly knew what he was talking about, at least. Well, so did Ahsoka, sort of. It was tangled in that gap of almost/too-much that no amount of prodding could resolve, not even using the Force. Maybe when they got off this terrible planet.

The Father sighed, and raised a hand, two fingers glowing green but sickly, nothing like the clean green light of her sabers. She was ready to fight him, defend her Master, but Master Anakin made no move to stop him or dodge, so those two fingers touched his forehead instead. He was quiet, but Ahsoka saw him visibly stiffen. "Oh. Yeah. Okay. Protect, _and_ balance the Force."

The Father closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, some of the ethereal green had left them. "You have my blessing. In both of your endeavours."

"Great," said Master Obi-wan. "At least someone is happy. When do I get to find out what happened?" Which Ahsoka wanted to know, too.

"After we get to Coruscant," said Master Anakin. "Which will happen soonest if we're on the shuttle. Father . . . keep your vigil, and I'll keep mine. I hope our paths never cross again."

"I, also. Farewell," said the Father, and walked past them, into the pervasive gloom of the fog.

"Well!" said Master Obi-wan. " That was bracing." Then he looked at Master Anakin's expression. "What?"

"You're alive," said Master Anakin, and the skin all along Ahsoka's montrals tingled.

Master Kenobi frowned. "Was I ever not alive?"

"In this time, and this place?" Master Anakin looked to Ahsoka, and she would've had to be Force-null and blind and deaf to not see the haunted look in his eyes. It was a full-body tingle now, telling her that _something was wrong_. Unhelpfully, there was no indication about _what_ was wrong, other than the thing she couldn't remember; and whenever something was wrong with Master Anakin, he didn't tend to share.

Still. She wasn't the padawan of the Hero With No Fear for nothing. " . . . it's been longer for you than it has for us, hasn't it?"

Master Anakin half smiled, said, "You have _no idea_." Ahsoka wondered that she'd ever thought his eyes like ice when they were so clearly the devouring heat of an oxyacetalene fire. They'd take in the whole galaxy if they could, and even if Master Anakin wouldn't want to hurt anyone, it was in the nature of fire to burn. It scared Ahsoka, sometimes, what he could be like. She was pretty sure she should be scared right then. "Are we ready to lift?"

"Just like that?" she asked, words slipping out before she could stop them.

"Hmm?"

"You just . . . agree to balance the Force, and he," she gestured at the swamp, "lets you go? He's been trying to make you stay here for training, or something, wasn't he?"

"He was," said Master Anakin, and walked past her toward the open shuttle ramp.

" _And_?"

Master Anakin looked at her, blinked, and sighed. "Where is the Force, Ahsoka?"

"Everywhere," she answered the crecheling question promptly, climbing the ramp. Master Obi-wan followed them, and pressed the autoseal behind them.

"Yes," said Master Anakin. "And if it's unbalanced anywhere, which it is, then it's unbalanced everywhere. I did his stupid training - the important part, anyway - so he had no excuse to keep me here. It doesn't really matter _where_ I am, after all. The Force is the Force; I can balance in from anywhere." He strapped in and began going through pre-flight.

Master Obi-wan asked, "So does that mean you can explain what it means? That the Force is unbalanced." He asked it in his usual sarcastic tone, but Ahsoka could feel through the Force how deadly serious he was.

The answer wasn't immediately forthcoming, as Master Anakin launched them and Mortis finally let them go. "I'm going to have to meditate on it a bit."

This was such a bizarre thing for Master Anakin to say that Ahsoka asked, "Are you okay, Master?"

Master Anakin laughed. "A lot better now, actually. Thanks, Snips. And there they are. _Negotiator_ , come in. _Negotiator_ , do you copy?"

"Loud and clear," said a relieved sounding voice on the other end of the line, so Ahsoka went quiet. She was going to have to meditate too: Master Anakin wasn't going to tell her but she was going to have to know. It would be nice to meditate someplace that wasn't pulling violently toward the Dark. Also, it would be nice to meditate with her master, even if he was kind of terrible at it.


	3. Windu on Coruscant, Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Windu strongly believed that you could learn a lot about a person by fighting with them. If that was true, then by now he should know absolutely everything about one Anakin Skywalker.

When Skywalker looked up at all the watching Jedi and said, "This is not an exhibition match," Mace Windu snorted. It wasn't _officially_ , but there hadn't been much time for official exhibition matches in the last two years. Of course everyone was going to show up now; Yoda didn't fight much, these days.

"Sure it isn't," said Windu, beginning with warm-up stretches. "We're going to start two-on-one against you; you . . . fight as much like our actual opponent as you can."

"Oh gods," said Skywalker, finishing his own stretching, but put on a game enough face.

He caught Yoda's eye, and signalled his intent through the Force. Skywalker had been an indifferent student of lightsaber fencing before the war, and even now, he relied more on his ridiculous strength in the Force than any kind of skill. Whatever game he was playing, it wouldn't be fair to fight seriously against him.

Thirty minutes later, Windu had decided two things. First, whoever this person was, he definitely wasn't the Skywalker the Jedi knew. Unlike his flashy young counterpart, he moved like he had a personal grudge against giving even a single extra millimeter. Second, he was an absolute _master_ of the 'saber, seamlessly combining makashi, soresu, shien, and something disturbingly like his own vaapad with forms that he didn't know at all. The result was devastatingly effective, and whenever he and Yoda pushed a bit harder, their opponent matched them without any apparent difficulty.The only thing he'd found that even resembled a weakness was that the man was wearing clone armor and the greater momentum meant he couldn't do any aerials; and even then, he was clearly accustomed to fighting in armor, because he wasn't letting it slow him down any. Instead, he used tràkata to get _them_ to overcommit, and then followed up with a shien counterattack.

After another ten minutes, which was the time it took for both Yoda and himself to hit the limit of how far they could push, he announced, "Break!" and, thankfully, not-Skywalker immediately stepped off and powered down his 'saber before heading towards the water fountain. After a drink, he politely stepped aside to allow Yoda a turn.

"Okay," he said, a few minutes later. "That was - now imagine that, but faster, and without telegraphing as badly as I do, and with a whole bunch of illusions and subtle little tricks to get you to overreach, all while someone keeps hitting you with Darkness."

"I must have used vaapad," said Windu, shocked into thinking out loud. Telegraphing as _badly_ as he did? Windu hadn't been able to predict where an attack was going more than half the time! "Against an _actual Sith_."

"Whatever works," said - well, call him Anakin for the moment, at least in his own head.

"How did you survive?" Yoda asked.

"The first few times we fought, they weren't trying to kill me. And then I spent a lot of time with training droids on murderer mode."

"Why were they not trying to kill you?" asked Windu. Sith killed Jedi, whenever possible.

"Because _apparently_ killing a Sith apprentice qualifies you for the position, and I did."

"Oh. The debrief is just going to be twenty-four years of atrocities, isn't it?"

"Yes. Can we - you two know how to work together, and that's really great. But can we try the other ways? I need to learn how not to get in your way, and vice versa."

"Yes," said Yoda.

It took him about two seconds to get the hang of working alongside Windu, even when Windu, concerned by the cavalier, 'whatever works,' used vaapad instead of the more common forms. Then they got to fighting two-on-one _against_ Windu, and . . .

"Look," snapped Anakin, as irritable as ever, "Just bounce off me."

"Undignified, it is."

"Do you want to be dignified, or do you want to win?"

"For you, I meant."

"I want to win," said Anakin, with such heartfelt sincerity that Windu found he could, in fact, believe that this man had lived through something as outright horrific as Order Sixty-Six.

"Very well," said Yoda, and they both turned their attention on him.

After two embarrassingly short matches, he preempted a third by saying, "I think we're as ready as we're going to be."

"Agreed," said Anakin, as though following reasonable suggestions was a Skywalker thing to do. "We should break for showers and a light lunch, and then head out."

At lunch, however, Madame Nu sat down at their table and announced, "We've figured out how to write new orders. We're rolling out one voiding Order Sixty-Six as I speak. It's already been pushed all over Coruscant."

"Gread," said Anakin. "Now explain to me why you didn't kill _all_ of the orders."

"Some of those are good id - "

" _No_ , Nu, they're not. You've never seen what it does to a person, to be forced to obey a contingency order; I have. Write an order to kill the chips, and start distributing it. Now. I want the GAR clear by tomorrow."

Madame Nu stared at him. Skywalker had, at a certain point, been fairly easy to find by just searching certain parts of the library. If he could be said to respect anyone, it would have been the woman who taught him how to search for pod racer schematics. He would never have dared order her to do anything. "You can't - "

"As he says, Master Nu, you should do," said Yoda, softly.

"I - yes, grand master, right away."

As soon as she left, Windu turned to give Naberrie a look. "And you still don't have any emotional control."

"Yes, I do. This is just worth being angry over." Before Windu could even consider responding to the suggestion that Anakin could _choose_ where he got angry, he continued, "'Some of them are good ideas!' What about the rights of clones, as sapients in the Galactic Republic, to bodily autonomy and their own thoughts and making their own decisions? Never mind the sheer number of them who kissed their blasters in the year after - " He looked at their expressions, and stopped. "Atrocities," he finished, crisply.

"The more of your past I hear, the less I like," said Yoda.

"And we haven't even come close to the worst things," said Anakin.

"Worse than the war?" asked Windu.

"The war has been bad, yeah, but no one has glassed a planet from orbit," said Anakin. "Yet."

Windu abruptly found that he didn't want to know until he was sitting in a room with the rest of the council, listening to a proper debrief. "Can we stop that from happening?"

"I hope so," said Anakin, and determinedly turned to plowing his way through an enormous grain salad.

The aircar Anakin chose to take wasn't a prisoner-transport ship, and although he did make a point of taking handcuffs, Windu wasn't fooled: Anakin didn't think they were going to be able to take the Sith alive. He was probably right.

"Where are we going?" asked Windu.

"The Senate dome," said Anakin.

"So my padawan the truth told there, at least," said Yoda.

"Yeah - oh. Do you mind if I take a few minutes to see Chancellor Palpatine? We're probably not going to have time after, and . . . " He wasn't trying to hide his emotions particularly, and Windu could only imagine what the Sith had done to the supreme chancellor.

"Of course," said Yoda.

"Only a few minutes," Windu added, because they did, actually, have a job to do.

"And Senator Amidala?"

Windu rolled his eyes. "Don't push it."

Skywalker would have, of course. Anakin just laughed.

Getting in to see the supreme chancellor wasn't particularly difficult, even without an appointment; anything that could bring the Jedi Grand Master, the Hero With No Fear, and General Windu to him was rated serious enough. Chancellor Palpatine offered them seats and drinks, but Anakin demurred. "We're just here for a few minutes, and the masters didn't mind stopping by to see you."

"At least it isn't bad news from the front," sighed Palpatine. "I can take a moment; it seems like all I ever do anymore is read disheartening reports. Tell me, what have you been up to? Last I heard you'd gotten into trouble on Mandalore."

"Ages ago," said Anakin, despite the fact that he'd only gotten back from that mission a month ago. Windu supposed that, from his perspective, it was. "Since then I went to Dathomir, and then got hijacked by a series of _incredibly_ persistent visions."

"Oh?"

"Chancellor Palpatine," said Anakin, "Under the Constitution of the Galactic Republic, Section Three, Subsection Twelve, and under the authority vested in me by the Jedi Order as a Knight of the Republic, I'm placing you under arrest."

What.

" . . . Anakin?" asked Chancellor Palpatine, sounding confused and concerned. "My boy?"

"Are you resisting arrest?"

He could not possibly be serious.

"Arrest? On what charges?"

"Conspiracy to cause war," said Anakin, because of course he was serious, and Windu could not believe he'd allowed himself to forget, even for a single solitary second, that he was dealing with Anakin _Skywalker_. "Conspiracy to undermine the Galactic Republic," continued Anakin. "Corruption; deliberately ignoring the Constitution of the Galactic Republic while holding public office; enslaving sapient beings; obstruction of the peace process; carrying concealed weapons - "

Chancellor Palpatine gave him a look that was clearly asking if the Hero With No Fear had broken under the stress, and if so, could they please get him the medical help he clearly needed?

" - and, lest I forget, being a _murderous lying Sith bastard_. Darth Sidious."

The moment that followed would haunt Windu's dreams for years to come. It was rather like the moment, in a dream, where some unpreposing household item, a greatcloak or a spatula or something, turned around and revealed its teeth. The mask of Palpatine dropped away almost instantaneously, to be replaced with - "Ah. And you brought backup. I have to say, I honestly never expected you, of all people, to figure it out - "

"Are you. Resisting. Arrest?" repeated Anakin, like proper procedure mattered when the actual Sith Lord had been the supreme chancellor for over a decade.

Darth Sidious smiled, hiding away behind the friendly face of Palpatine. "If it means so much to you, Jedi, then yes. I'm resisting arrest." There was a slight motion, and then Sidious was holding a lightsaber hilt. "And for a follow-up . . . well. You know I can't let you leave this room alive." The lightsaber was, unsurprisingly, Sith red.

Windu took his out, and beside him, so did Yoda. Anakin, in point, took his out more slowly, almost contemplatively, and said, "I think you'll find that somewhat more difficult than you expect," before turning his own on as well.

The problem, Windu decided, about five seconds in, was not that Anakin had lied about how hard this fight would be. It was that he hadn't actually wanted to kill them, and he couldn't show what he didn't feel. Sidious wanted them dead, with a malice that was shocking on the face of his friend Chancellor Palpatine, and he wasn't afraid to back it up with the Dark. Windu knew that, all right, and he braced himself to defend -

\- only to have the building attack vanish, somehow pulled away -

\- to where a Sith-eyed Anakin was standing.

Oh.

 _Fuck_.

Sidious recovered first. "Well, well," he began.

"Surprise," said Anakin flatly, and attacked.

Windu immediately looked to Yoda, who looked at the two Sith currently duelling, and then back to him. The challenge for them had just gone up an order of magnitude: Darth Sidious was the Sith Master, which meant Anakin had to be going for his mastery. He'd work with them to the extent that they'd help him wear his master down, but he'd want to be the one to actually kill him. They had to prevent that from happening, at any cost. The thought of Anakin Skywalker walking around with the Dark at his fingertips . . . and, afterwards, they'd still have to face off against him.

They'd barely been holding their own that morning, and that was with Anakin using only _half_ of his power.

Yoda closed his eyes, and nodded. Windu grimly turned back to the battle.

At least Anakin didn't really seem to want to fight them. It wasn't like he was focused on Sidious to the exclusion of all else, though: he was still defending them, although it took until his eyes flickered yellow-black-yellow for Windu to figure that out. Then Yoda tried bouncing off him, and Anakin even gave him a boost. Windu had never cared to know the intricacies of Sith politics, but he was fairly sure that was unusual behavior. Sith killed Jedi, after all.

Sidious was certainly giving it his best shot. Anakin kept doing whatever it was he was doing to make those attacks not work, his eyes flickering more and more Sith whenever he did, and in the meantime he seemed content to help Yoda keep Sidious pinned while Windu did the actual work. It was not easy, even then, but he could feel Sidious getting more and more desperate as none of his attacks even went off, much less connected. The battle couldn't last much longer, and they had to somehow distract Anakin from making the kill - 

At any cost. He caught Yoda's eye. Yoda immediately did not like the plan, but also didn't see an alternative, so when Windu pressed his attack a little incautiously, he was out of the way when the Dark connected.

Windu had known it would be bad, but in fact it didn't hurt much after the first agonizing second. This, he figured out when his muscles all stopped working at once, was because the Sith lightning had discharged most of his skeletal muscle and peripheral neurons and the pain receptors wouldn't work again until the seizure ended. That didn't seem likely, though, given the massive cardiac arrest.

Sidious smiled his predatory smile, moving in for the kill, and then Yoda got a blade into his unguarded back, so it was Windu who got the last laugh as the lightning abruptly stopped.

The carpet was nice thick plush, and almost didn't hurt to hit.

Then someone - someone who had to be _Anakin_ , because the hands were human - was frantically turning him over and clawing at his robes.

He stopped when Yoda leveled his lightsaber at his throat, though. "Halt."

"Yoda - "

"Excuses I do not wish to hear."

"Okay - "

"Sith you are."

" _Was_. Yoda - "

"To the Dark side, you have fallen."

"Later, Yoda. Right now _I need to restart his heart_."

What.

" - what?"

"I am shit with Force lightning, but this I can do."

Windu felt in the Force, as Yoda tried and failed to read the potential outcomes, there were so many. He was forced to rely instead on logic, which said: Anakin could kill Windu, probably, but like this Yoda would be able to react fast enough to stop him escaping. Without help, Windu was going to die anyway. Therefore, it wasn't a loss to let him try. "Know what you are doing, I hope you do."

"Sure," said Anakin, placing his hands over Windu's chest. "I've had practice."

Then he pushed in enough Light to restart Windu's heart, get a jump on healing the burns from the fight and bruises from the fall, and probably clear his lungs of two years' worth of war dust for good measure. Anakin let it go before Windu started growing hair, but Windu got the distinct sense that he could have fixed that, too, and all of it, every bit, was _impossible_. Sith couldn't do healing, not real fixing-you healing, because Sith couldn't touch the Light.

"Okay," said Anakin, sounding only a little shaky.

"Anakin Skywalker, Knight of the Jedi Order. Under arrest I place you," said Yoda.

"Yeah," replied Anakin, and there was thump as Anakin just - surrendered his lightsaber. "Here."

"And _many_ more questions I now have."

"I did promise a debriefing."

Windu was pretty sure no debriefing ever could possibly explain anything about Anakin Skywalker.

"Use the light side, I felt you. Yet use the dark side also you did. Such a thing impossible is. So taught I was."

On the other hand, at least Anakin didn't seem to be upset he hadn't killed Sidious, and he had healed Windu (Of a heart attack! some part of Windu's mind was frantically shouting, He defibrillated you with his bare hands!) so maybe he hadn't been lying about being _ex_ -Sith, either.

"And here," said Anakin, tossing over the handcuffs he'd so diligently brought and incidentally clearly signalling that he wasn't going to answer anything right now.

"Hmmph," said Yoda, but, well, he had the handcuffs. They wouldn't do anything if Anakin decided there was somewhere else he'd rather be, but he had them. For the moment Anakin seemed cooperative. With no other obvious options, Yoda began cuffing him and reciting his rights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this really quick before bed. Longer and better notes, as well as tags, at a later date.
> 
> Edit: Okay, the one inaccuracy in the fic pointed out to me by a sharp-eyes reader is fixed, and the tags have been updated.
> 
> In other news, my beau is ready to propose to me. I am not ready to be proposed to! *FLAILS!* What do?!


	4. Rex in Space, Musing on Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex knew that offering Naberrie anything was not going to work as intended.
> 
> He was very, very right.

Rex did not immediately notice when his comm chimed, because he was busy conducting live-fire target practice with the new batch of shinies. They weren't _bad_ , because anyone who couldn't figure out how to hit center-mass of a human-sized target from ten meters washed out of the program. They just weren't _good_ either, and if they couldn't figure out how to hit a human-sized target from twenty meters they were going to die in the next foxtrot.

Not that they were having those much, anymore.

But, anyway. Rex didn't notice that he had a message until the exercise was over and he'd finished chewing out the shinies for being terrible shots, and then he checked to find a response from Naberrie. (Skywalker was dead.)

Ner aliit. Nayc entye.

Rex stared down at it. Skywalker had learned to speak Mando'a the way he'd learned every other language he'd ever encountered, and then more or less used it as command code, since pretty much nobody who wasn't Mando spoke it and it was a very succinct language for fighting. He'd never really cared about the Mando _culturally_. That had, apparently, changed.

Yes, Naberrie, I know. The 501st knows. The 212th knows. The 104th knows. Every one of us who has ever met you knows. But that's not most of the GAR. It's not more than two percent of it, even if we're being generous and counting the navy of any ship you ever rode on, which probably we shouldn't. Everyone else is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He thought about it, then added, A planet, Naberrie. What were you thinking?

The answer was not long in coming.

I was thinking that maybe some of the GAR would like to settle down. Build a farm. Have children. That kind of thing.

He wasn't _wrong_ , exactly; clone culture overlapped a lot with Mando culture. Some of them would leave, and settle down to raise children, because children were important. Rex was going to stay and finish the fight, because guarding the ones with children was also important.

Kriffing insane bastard.

All three of those things are correct.

Skywalker hadn't talked about his past. Up until Naberrie's stunt in the Senate, Rex had more or less assumed he'd had the same upbringing as the rest of the Jedi, in the Temple. In retrospect, though, it was obvious he hadn't; he'd known his mother enough to know she hadn't been married to whoever his father was. The insanity was obvious to anyone who spent even a short mission with him. And of course there was Senator Amidala, to whom he was actually, in defiance of all Jedi rules, _married_.

This had absolutely nothing to do with the point Rex had been making.

Rex switched channels and typed a message in on the generally-slow local CT channel: Naberrie's on the ansible. Anyone have anything that needs to be said?

Same thing as we've been asking.

They'd been asking what Naberrie was going to want, and hadn't believed him when he said neither of the Naberries would ask anything, ever. Rex rolled his eyes. If I ask, will you shut up about this?

There's a distinct possibility.

Rex switched back over to the channel with Naberrie, and typed out, I asked around, and most of the regimental commanders said they'd feel better if they could do something for you. Then, because Rex was not an idiot and knew how Naberrie would react to the idea that he was owed anything after having declared the clones his _aliit_ , he added, Not as a price. Just. Something.

Naberrie didn't respond immediately. Rex sighed, if only internally. Naberrie wasn't _that_ different from Skywalker: it was going to be a heavy carry, whatever it was.

On a completely voluntary basis, then. Clones who want to should pay it forward. Go out into the universe and find someone else who is a slave, and make them free.

Rex stared down at his comm, which chimed again with a new incoming message.

Don't just buy them, either. That gives legitimacy to the concept of slavery and creates demand. Go find the slavers and take their ships whole. Go find the slaveowners and arrest them and bring them up on trial. Do it on holo, before the entire galaxy. Track down their connections, their sponsors, everyone who knew about it and turned the other way for the sake of profit. Make sure that everyone knows: those who break this law, explicitly or implicitly, get to face those who once were slaves.

Rex felt it hit him more in his gut than his mind: that, yes, they had been slaves, and weren't, now. Naberrie had been too, and he'd gotten out, and the very first thing he'd done with it was to turn around and reach back to help his family. He'd been absolutely right that neither Naberrie would try and claim they were owed anything, because the only way they were going to be able to pay this kind of a debt was _forward_.

There were plenty of brothers who wanted out, and who didn't want to settle down and start a family. Pointing them at galactic slavers . . .

Naberrie wasn't that different from Skywalker, but he was different enough.

Rex copied the entirety of the message over to the CT channel. Then, even before the responses started coming in, he typed a reply for Naberrie.

Why did anyone ever think you were going to have a simple request?

Not that I disagree. The CT channel was already lighting up as command clones decided that, yes, this was a mission they would get behind, and began to work out the practicalities. Not that any of our brothers will disagree.

There was pause while Naberrie typed. Even after the trials, it won't be simple. The GAR troopers were raised to be soldiers, to work equally well with or without supervision. You already know how to live your own lives. Most slaves aren't like that. You're going to have to teach them how to say no. How to fight, and how to stop fighting. How to be free. It won't be easy.

He had a point, of course. Soldiers needed to be able to make calls, and CTs more than most. Other kinds of slaves would have been actively discouraged from learning. But he'd been through CT training, and so he knew it was a teachable skill. And, at least a little bit, how to teach it.

I don't think it matters much, Naberrie. It's something that we'll be happy and more than happy to do. I'll pass the word along. For one, although commanders in local space all knew it, it was going to have to be general consensus. Someone - someone _good_ \- was going to have to lead the effort, and Rex already knew he wasn't cut out for that kind of command. Maybe Wolffe, if he could be convinced to take it on.

Make sure everyone knows it's not a demand. If they want to stop, they should stop.

As if; Kix and Jesse weren't suddenly going to turn around from their new dream of settling down together on their shiny new planet. I will, but I - we're going to line up for this one. Rex out.

Then he copied that last exchange over to the CT channel too, which was now hopping as commanders started planning it out, not as a single mission but as a campaign that was going to take as long as the entire war thus far, or longer. Then he added, The Naberries don't make demands, and never will. They just decide on the future they want, and do impossible things until those futures happen.

So just like Skywalker, then, commented CT-2545, a commander in the 182nd who Rex knew mostly by reputation. He wasn't _wrong_ exactly, but . . .

Supreme victory does not lie in winning every battle and defeating every enemy, quoted Rex, and let them fill in the rest of it. Skywalker only ever saw defeating his enemies. Naberrie . . .

Naberrie, if and when he chose to fight, was going to fight on his terms. He was going to achieve supreme victory, every time. That should be an absolutely terrifying thought, except that Rex _knew_ him. None of the futures he chose were ever going to be the wrong ones.

Well. For him and his brothers, anyway. They were definitely the wrong ones for the Trade Federation and the Hutts and the slavers who were now running almost completely unchecked in the Outer Rim.

Rex, almost despite himself, felt his lips curl up into an almost feral grin.

 _Good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not dead! I just moved in with my boyfriend for quarantine, and I have been very _distracted_ c.c
> 
> The thing Rex is quoting is from Sun Tzu's _the Art of War_ , although in-universe it's probably some Sith saying that worked its way into Mando culture way back during the Sith wars.
> 
> If anyone knows how to get the AO3 to not insert a line break along with every < div > tag, I'd be obliged if your could share it.
> 
> Okay, that's all. Stay safe, everyone!


	5. Ventress on Coruscant, Debreifing

When Ventress came back to herself, she was too warm, had a crick in her neck to indicate she'd spent too long on a too-short mattress, and was suffused with a sensation of such total satisfaction that in the first few confused moments she thought she must have won a battle yesterday. Then she remembered - Padmé, Skywalker, _meditating_ \- and understood. The Light listened to him, came when he called. It didn't do that for Dooku, and it didn't do that for Mother Talzin. As far as she'd known, it never did, for those who chose the Dark.

Just went to show Skywalker was the right choice, she supposed, and opened her eyes. The room was all shadows and cool predawn blues, but perfectly adequate to half-zabrak eyes. As she sat up, a blanket fell to pool on her legs. It explained how warm she was, at least. She stood and folded it up neatly before standing up to stretch out.

Padmé came into the tiny kitchen just as she finished making the tea. "Ventress?"

"Morning," she said. "What is there for breakfast?"

"Cereal," said Padmé. "Or toast with jam."

" _Cold_ cereal," said Ventress, pouring her a cup of tea. "Fine. Do you have eggs?"

"Er," said Padmé, but went over to the preserver and took out a carton that did, indeed, contain eggs. "Did you sleep all right? I know that couch isn't the most comfortable . . . "

"I didn't sleep," said Ventress, instead of lying and saying it had been comfortable.

"Oh," said Padmé, clearly caught wrong-footed and confused about what to do.

Ventress felt much the same way. She'd never really spent much time thinking about former Queen Amidala, other than to think it was stupid to attempt to fix the Republic. The person, however, wasn't stupid in the least, and she wanted to talk more, figure out why she didn't think it was a lost cause. Padmé clearly did too, and, thought Ventress, they might have been on the same side in a less terrible universe. In this one, she thought they might be able to be allies, of a sort. "Thanks. For the blanket."

"Blanket?"

"You didn't put one on me?"

"No," said Padmé. She didn't follow this by declaring that this meant Anakin must have; she didn't need to.

Ventress had never really thought about what Skywalker was like off the battlefield, either, except that he mother-henned his troops and master and apprentice without a single care about Attachment. She would never have thought he'd be stupid enough to try and mother-hen _her_ , though. Or maybe it was just a Naberrie thing. He seemed the type.

The food was done almost a full quarter of an hour before the man came out, dressed but clearly not yet entirely awake. He ate his way through a plate of eggs before he seemed to notice what he was eating, or that she'd cooked them. Then he looked over at her and asked, "How did meditating go?"

"Fine," she said, looking over him with both eyes and the Force. He should have been a pulsing stygian well, instead of feeling . . . normal. Possibly not even Force-sensitive, just like he had last night and unlike his obnoxiously loud presence had ever been before. She was not stupid enough to think this meant that he was any less powerful. "You?"

He hummed, which was not an answer, before he said, "A lot of the GAR isn't retiring. What does the Senate plan to do with them, Padmé?"

"Nothing," said Padmé. "Why?"

"I was just thinking, _someone_ should be doing all that piracy policing that hasn't been done since the war broke out."

"Mm," said Padmé. "That's not a bad idea. I'll talk to Bail."

Skywalker nodded. "Thanks. Let me go brush my teeth, Ventress, and then we can go. Er. You don't mind wearing a hood, do you?"

"Hmm," said Ventress, marvelling. That wasn't how Skywalker would have tried to solve that problem but Skywalker's way would almost certainly have caused massive property damage and, importantly, _not solved the problem_. She was fifty-fifty on if it would now, either, but . . . she trusted Padmé enough to at least make the attempt, and if it failed she'd be able to mock the senator to her face.

With the hooded robe on, no one so much as gave them a second glance the entire way to the lifts.

Halfway up, and somewhat to her own surprise, she said, "You . . . don't feel Dark at all."

"Should I?"

"You Fell. Flamboyantly. And yet you can hide it so well that even Sidious didn't feel it."

"And he hid it so well that the Jedi Council never noticed. What's your point?"

"I - " she began, then stopped and thought about it. This wasn't a question of raw power, like Skywalker had all but shouted to the whole universe. It was the kind of soft power that Sidious had wielded over Dooku to make him betray her, or - Naberrie - had used on the Senate to make them free the clones. Or, for that matter, on _her_ , when he'd said, 'We'll negotiate like adults.' That kind of power was only soft the way water was soft, and even after she'd begun the campaign to unite Rattatak, she'd never quite gotten the hang of it. " - would like to negotiate."

He opened his mouth the reply, but by then the doors were already opening, and they were at the antechamber to the Jedi Council. The twelve of them, those there in person and there by holo, looked at her for only a moment before dismissing her. She was tempted to say something, but she was not here to cause trouble.

Naberrie waited until they began with roll call, of all things, before he said, "Masters. I apologize that I'm going to have to preempt my own meeting, but the situation has changed. Some weeks ago, Asajj Ventress contacted me about the fact that she is suffering from Dark Force burn. We negotiated a ceasefire: I will teach her how to not die, and in return, she will tell us everything she knows about the Separatist forces. Last night," he gestured at her, "she arrived. Also, the Temple has a fairly serious security breach."

The Temple did not, in fact, have a fairly serious security breach. The Temple was a wide-open invitation, anywhere below a few hundred levels down. Ventress said, "The Temple is one big security nightmare. Masters."

Half of them started talking at once, none of them to her. She watched, fairly impressed, while they all shouted at Naberrie instead.

When it had gone on long enough to stop being funny, she said, "Don't blame S - Naberrie. I think he expected me to surrender myself at the front door. I got in all on my own."

"He doesn't have the authority to make that kind of bargain," said Gallia.

"Masters, you have no authority over me whatsoever," said Naberrie. "As long as I am not misusing the Force, and I'm not - "

"That's debatable," muttered the one she recognized from briefings about the Citadel as [Evan] Piell.

" - then you don't get to tell me who I may and may not teach," finished Naberrie, totally ignoring him. "I thought you might want to know about the Separatist deployments. If you don't, that's fine; I'm still going to teach Ventress what I can. Whatever else she's done, she doesn't deserve to die because the Dark ate her from the inside." That was the truth, Ventress realized as she heard it. From Skywalker, her survival _would_ have been contingent on her intel. Naberrie had put a blanket on her.

"And I do rather want to see what you do with Dooku. Take it or leave it, darlings."

They took it, of course. Naberrie had made the right bargain, offering something they couldn't afford to pass up in return for - not trying to hold her accountable to Republic law. They had to know it wouldn't have worked anyway, there wasn't a prison in the galaxy that could hold her.

Well. Except if she was dying of the Dark. They'd probably be able to hold her, then.

The questions were mostly boring, droid numbers and factory capacities and resource allocations. She told them what she knew, which wasn't all that much, but still a lot more than she was supposed to. Dooku had never really cared that for all they'd eventually followed her willingly, she'd begun her conquest of Rattatak by the blade. Greivous, she suspected, had figured out she would have been better at his job that he was, but it wasn't particularly in his interest to let Dooku know. So she'd been able to read whatever she wanted about the sector and the local politicians when preparing for a mission, and for all that most of it was out-of-date at best, the Jedi still wanted to know. Once they'd gotten what she remembered, Windu said, "Thank you, Ventress. There are refreshments for you in the antechamber."

"I still have my original topic to talk about, Masters," said Naberrie.

"This more important is," said Yoda.

"Really it's not. It's just more immediate. When will the Council be able to meet again?"

"Tomorrow," suggested Yoda. Other councillors nodded in agreement.

"Great. And what about Ventress?"

"What about her?" asked Windu.

"Based solely on what she was able to show me last night, what I must teach Ventress is something it took me almost two years to figure out." Ventress managed to suppress the wince. It wasn't like she hadn't known that training without a master was a good idea, or that Dooku was a terrible master. Still. Two _years_. "I don't even know if that's the only thing I have to teach her. She's going to be on Coruscant during that time and will, at the very least, need visitor access to the Temple."

"Visitor access!" said the Zabrak councillor. "Why? So she can attack at night? Corrupt younglings in the crèche?"

"I hope not. Corrupting younglings in the crèche is my job." He'd done the thing again, the one that turned his eyes to gold, but when she checked there wasn't even a hint of Darkness in the room.

The next few minutes were spent in argument, everyone talking at once. She couldn't see how, with _this_ at the head of the opposing military, the Separatists hadn't won outright within a few months. Except, of course, she could: it hadn't been a real war.

Eventually, after another couple of minutes, Yoda turned to Ventress and asked, "And you?"

"I have somewhere else to stay," said Ventress, desperately wishing she were on the _Banshee_ right now. "And I have no interest in children. Untrusted visitor access will be fine."

"Then that is what you will have," said Yoda. "Now go, you two. Tomorrow, Naberrie. If other urgent business suddenly appears, very suspicious I will become."

Naberrie smiled, which with his eyes looked less kind and more feral. "Ask the Force, not me. Come on, Ventress."

On the way down, she turned to him to ask, "How did you do that?"

"Which?"

"Tell them that plan to corrupt the younglings and have them totally ignore you?"

"Because I don't actually plan to corrupt anybody, and they know it."

Ventress blinked to cover her surprise. Learning to tell truth from lies was fairly elementary, and Naberrie wasn't _lying_. She just didn't see what he had to gain. To cover it, she asked, "And this will take two years?"

"It took me two years," he said. "But I had to figure it out on my own, and I was starting from a place worse than where you are now. We don't have to do anything immediately, anyway. You need - a lot of meditation. Did you sleep at all last night? Real sleep?"

"No," said Ventress, and would have left it there, except . . . he'd agreed to teach her, and this was something he probably did need to know, as her teacher. "That was the first time I've been able to meditate, properly meditate, in four months." Since she'd rested with the Nightsisters, some of whom had chosen the necessary work of healing. "There was a chance you were going to renege - "

"There wasn't, but I understand your logic." He didn't even seem upset about it. "We'll go back to my apartment, I'll help get you started again, and then you should be able to go to sleep at a normal hour tonight. Uh. You - do really have someplace else to stay?"

"Yes," said Ventress.

"Good. That's good."

"And when will you start teaching me?"

"Um. I. Think there's a way to hit two droidekas with one blast, but I have to ask Yoda. Day after tomorrow, probably. If you - want to stay the night, regardless of your other place, I can get you started meditating in the morning and you can get another day while the Council shouts at me."

"You don't mind having a former Sith sleeping on your couch?"

His eyes flickered, gold-blue-gold, before he said, "It would be pretty hypocritical of me, given the one sleeping in my skin every night."

Ventress had enough experience with Skywalker - and Naberrie - to know he was just _like this_ , and he was never going to stop with the dramatic reveals at inappropriate times. Besides, in his vision, or whatever it was, _someone_ had to have taught him, and the Nightsisters didn't teach men. This wasn't as shocking as he'd intended. "I see."

"Trust me, you don't."

She'd seen the footage of the fight against Palpatine, and it had felt like being rescued all over again, looking up to see someone using the Force as a shield and thinking, _Ah, that's what that is for._ It felt like that again now, too. "You must have been magnificent, though."

"In some ways."

And in others . . . well. Walking away from being a Sith had been the obvious choice, when weighed against certain death, but it still hadn't been _easy_ ; and she'd had the Nightsisters to run to. She didn't want to know what had caused him to Fall, or what had given him the strength to walk away again. "I'll stay the night." Get in more useful meditation, she meant, even if she no longer believed she was going to have to cut and run. And, in return, "If there's an in-Temple grocery delivery, I'll even cook."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the opening for this one, but getting it to go any further stumped me for a bit.
> 
> Today, I have cold. It's been in my throat for a day and it is really painful to swallow, but not to breathe, and the size has already decreased significantly. If it's not gone or almost gone by Wednesday, I'll get someone else to take a look, but in the meantime, I'm trying not to not burden the health care system.


	6. Megatron, Being Aggressively Auspiticized

Megatron unplugs from Optimus Prime, stands up, and then . . . just stares. Optimus Prime stairs back, with the usual blank despair that they put on every time interfacing fails to convince Megatron not to fight this war. And really, they understood it a little, when Optimus Prime was still a newspark and still not entirely sure of the Decepticon cause, but after eight million years, it's just _pathetic_.

Abruptly, and without entirely meaning to, Megatron comes to a decision. They turn, and leave.

It is surprisingly easy to arrange to kidnap the human. Rumble _volunteers_ , even though it isn't fighting and Rumble never volunteers for anything that isn't fighting. They say, "Rumble."

"I just want to make sure he doesn't get hurt, okay? Humans are delicate, but Spike's - we like Spike."

They like Spike because the human has apparently taken it on itself to make sure everyone is fully quadranted, and is somehow _extremely_ good at it. That's the point.

When they go to actually kidnap him, Spike only struggles until he realizes that it's Rumble, and then it turns cooperative. He doesn't try to escape even a little bit, not even when he is transferred over to the Stunticons. It's still hours more for them to drive back, and he even goes into a recharge cycle, right there on the road, that's how confident the human is in his welcome. Megatron thinks about ending his function, but discards the idea as completely unfair: killing people who were accessory at best just to make a point is a _Senate_ thing to do. Instead, Megatron works on other things while the chronometer ticks down.

They stand up a few minutes early, to stretch before the human arrives. The extreme size difference forces them to bend down and offer a hand, which he climbs into with no visible hesitation.

"Well, human?"

"You know, I had a whole thing planned," he says. "About mutual understanding and the difference between subjective and objective truth and the meaning of compromise. Now that I'm here I realize that's not going to work. So I'll do it the simple way instead. Ashen for you."

Megatron stares. Of course it was going to be something quadrant-related, that's what this human _does_ , but trying to mediate? Between them and Optimus Prime, no less, because who else would be the other leaf?

He seems completely serious. Megatron is forced to lift him even more, so they can use their more powerful short-range scanners. Scanning reveals nothing stranger about this human than that it's a "male" type, which they already knew. "You? You can't even _interface_."

"And that makes my read on emotions any less real?"

It doesn't. That's the _point_.

"And what makes you think we even need an auspitice?"

The human gestures, a movement that encompasses this building, the elite Decepticon warriors, but also the planet that they're on, because theirs is smothered by the ashes of war. "You'll be dead before we can even get a proper rapport."

"So it doesn't hurt you to give it a try for half a vorn," it says, a fast reply to an obvious objection.

Megatron decides to push. "I could break you by _accident_."

"You'll just have to be careful." As though Megatron is ever _not_ careful; they aren't dead yet, after all.

And it isn't like the human is _wrong_. If eight million years hasn't been enough to change Optimus Prime's mind, another half a vorn won't mean much. At the same time, it's something they haven't tried yet, and by now they've interfaced in pretty much every other possible way. Maybe through an auspitice will finally break through the tight hold the Matrix has on Optimus Prime. "I suppose I will." They turn to their warriors. "Decepticons, move out. I'll rejoin you once I've . . . taken him home."

They don't particularly like it, but they do it because sticking around during someone else's quadrant time?

Megatron moves their hand so the human can climb onto their shoulder, which puts his head just bout level with their ear. Once they leave the building - Megatron isn't sure what the humans build it for, and doesn't particularly care - he says, "You don't have to carry me around for hours."

"Have to, no," Megatron rolls their optics. "But I would like to get to know my esrtwhile auspitice. However temporary you turn out to be."

The human makes a gesture that probably means something. "What do you want to know?"

"Why do you even want to? You're human." The obvious answer is that he wants the Cybertronians off his planet; but if that were the case, he wouldn't be committing to half a vorn in the first five minutes.

He agrees with, "Yeah. Bumblebee says that humans are a bit pale for the whole world. We don't do interpersonal relationships the same way you do." They knew this. Humans don't have quadrants, for one. "Different evolutionary priorities." Obviously. "One of the strongest is to smooth out fighting in our kin-groups."

"I count as your kin-group?" Megatron asks, startled.

"You're in Optimus Prime's, and he's in mine, so by a transitive property that we call _in-law_ in this part of the world, you end up in mine as well. Besides, it doesn't seem to me that being in the wrong quadrant is doing either of you any good." It's doing them both a great deal of harm, he means.

"So you're going to try to pull us into the right one."

"Yup," says the human, enunciating on the final consonant. "Oh, but - please don't settle spades with Starscream. I'm pretty sure he set this up so that he could, and we try not to _encourage_ that kind of behavior."

Megatron snorts. "No. Starscream is annoying, but not kismetic material." It figures that they'd have asked the human to empty their spade, though; that's just Starscream's kind of plan.

"Good," says, the human.

"In what way did he set this up?" asks Megatron, idly. It's obvious with only a moment's thought that there is some kind of open line of communication, or the matchmaking wouldn't be working, but Megatron had only cared enough to verify that it wasn't a security breach. Soundwave had assured them that it wasn't, and that had been that.

"Oh, well. You know I, um, help, with quadranting?"

Of course. Everyone knows. "I'm amazed your moirail lets you."

"My relationship with my moirail is none of your business," says the human, which stings only in that it is absolutely true. "I got tired of being kidnapped, so he suggested setting up an email address. I can be kidnapped if I need to meet face-to-face, I'm here now, but most of the time that's overkill. I got an email asking me to get you and Optimus back together in diamonds. I didn't even know you ever _were_."

"We weren't," says Megatron flatly. Orion Pax had been their moirail, pure serendipity given form. Optimus Prime is only the mech the Matrix vivisected Orion Pax to build.

"He seemed to think you were."

Because Optimus Prime refuses, even now, to accept that they aren't Orion Pax. "We _weren't_."

The human waits, and Megatron thinks he's going to argue the point. Instead, he says, "You understand that I can't interface. You do know that, right?"

. . . interfacing through an auspitice who _can't interface_. How in Primus' name can this possibly work? Except it demonstrably _does_ , has done a dozen times over the last year alone. Megatron extends an offering of goodwill, if not peace, by saying, "There was a mech, Orion Pax. But they're dead now."

It's almost nothing.

It's the most they've ever been willing to say on that topic.

Somehow, _somehow_ , the human picks up on this, because the next thing he says is, "All right. And you hate Optimus Prime."

'Hate' isn't really the right word, but human languages don't have a word for kismetic attraction. It has to do. "Yes."

"And by extension, the Autobots."

Of course the Autobots _would_ believe that. They believe all the other Senate lies. That's what makes them Autobots. " _No_."

"No?"

"No. I find them ridiculous and idiotic, and would rather they stop being willfully _blind_ , but I don't hate them."

"Better. Now tell me what they're being blind about."

"You don't _know_?"

"I've only ever heard it from the Autobot side," says the human, which, granted. "I want you to tell me in your own words."

Megatron snorts again. "I have _read_ human history." Over the past three thousand of their solar rotations, the whole planet has been peaceful with no wars anywhere for a grand total of eighty of them. Most of them were stupid, but some . . . "You waged war, the greatest and deadliest this nation ever saw, to break the shackles of slavery."

"Yes?"

"And yet you hate _us_ for daring to do the same."

There's a brief moment when Megatron is afraid they've done something to break the human, he goes so quiet. Then he says, "We have time. Tell."

It's an old story, one Megatron has plenty of practice telling. With an invitation that direct, of course they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is time, am I right? What's a Friday?
> 
> In other news, we bought a Ring. There will eventually be a time when we get to go do the whole in-public proposal, and the restaurant will (hopefully) give us some Champaign. But a ring is a good first step.
> 
> With regards to this PoV: my brain persists in thinking of Megatron as a he, even though mechs don't have different biology. Therefore, if you spot a place where I refer to any mech by a gender they don't have, please let me know so I can fix it. And any other spelling/grammar errors you spot, of course.


End file.
